


We’re not in Kansas anymore

by fellshish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Appearances of Sam and other minor characters, Canonical Character Death, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, First Kiss, Harvelle's Roadhouse (Supernatural), Humor, Kansas, M/M, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Song: Carry on My Wayward Son (Kansas)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellshish/pseuds/fellshish
Summary: Cas can’t get to Dean in time to save his life because he’s busy killing Kansas for the heaven surprise party.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 57
Kudos: 159





	We’re not in Kansas anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my beta you-cant-spell-subtext-without, who made this story heaps better.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the official spn art made for the finale that never made it to screen. It also provided the base for this amazing fic cover art by thedestieloutlet [here](https://fellshish.tumblr.com/post/645538549777793025/were-not-in-kansas-anymore-t-3k-summary-cas)

Kansas died on a Thursday. 

Cas walked up to the band’s rehearsal space with a deep sigh. As the newly appointed head of heaven’s party planning committee, he really didn’t have time for this. But as its only member, he had no choice.

It had been Jack’s idea. Why not welcome Dean to heaven with a surprise party? Once he died of old age, of course. But it was best to plan ahead. Cas had had one meeting with Bobby, who’d raised his eyebrows and suggested a couple of beers on a porch instead. Blasphemy!

Now Cas had to do everything himself. 

The whole team (Cas) had agreed Dean’s favorite music should be playing. Unfortunately, Cas didn’t have much to go off for Dean’s musical taste. That mixtape Dean made for him only had the same band’s songs over and over. 

He considered killing the remaining members of Led Zeppelin, but he wasn’t so sure if they’d even end up in heaven. Maybe more of an escalator down than a stairway up situation. Always too much bureaucracy with these rock bands.

So now Kansas had to die.

He’d heard Dean hum one of their hits quite often after he and Sam came back from some strange high school musical case. 

Kansas, it turned out, had _seven_ members. This was more than an errand. This was proper mass murder. Maybe a DJ would have been more ethical.

 _Oh well. Anything for Dean_ , Cas thought as he opened the large doors to slay them. 

When the men looked up from their instruments, Cas decided then and there he was doing the whole wing reveal against a thunderclap thing. He loved the drama, to be honest. A little divine Plato’s cave for the mortals. And a nice callback to Dean, too.

Seven seventy-somethings stared at him in surprise.

“Cool special effects, dude,” the drummer said. 

Cas frowned. “I’m not some lowly vfx worker with a Twitter account. I am a celestial being.”

“Is this for the light show? Go through our management, man,” a guitarist said. “Though if this is a pitch, I’m not that impressed.”

“What’s wrong with my pitch?” Cas asked in the gravely, manly voice he’d adopted in recent years as if his angel balls had dropped. At the sight of Dean Winchester. 

He glared at what some obviously misguided people called “one of the greatest rock bands of all time”. They all had puzzled looks on their faces. He reached into his trenchcoat and took out a shotgun. 

“You’re booked for a gig,” Cas explained as he shot the nearest member in the chest, humming _Angel with a shotgun_.

He walked closer, coattails flapping like some sort of superhero cape. But it honestly didn’t even feel cool to kill Kansas. Let alone worth the paperwork. Weren’t they going to die soon anyway?

He shot two fleeing musicians in the back. “Don’t worry, there’ll be peace when you are done.”

With a snap of his fingers, he broke two more members’ necks. “You’ll soon be dust in the wind.”

The last one, he found cowering in the corner. If there was any time for ethical reflections he might have hesitated. Did he really _need_ a bass player? But there was still so much to be taken care of. Invitations, food, decorations …

As he pulled the final trigger, he was so consumed by his to-do list that he didn't even register the thread of another life snapping, one so very intimately connected to his. 

—-

“What do you mean, he’s _dead_?”

Jack squinted at him, hands folded behind his back. “You didn’t feel it?”

“I was busy, Jack! _God_! Filling out forms for these clowns.” He gestured to the seven dazed rockers behind him, following him around like he was Snow White. “It’s not even been that long since….” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just tell me. _How_?”

Cas pushed back a sudden rise of nerves. Dean was supposed to live a long life on earth, maybe start a family, maybe forget about… Cas’s last words. They were never supposed to… actually talk about... Cas thought he could use the Empty to escape an angel’s eternity to obsess over his own words. 

Of course things changed after Jack saved him. Dean dying was no surprise, of course. Humans are famously limited edition. But this soon? This was unfair —

He’d barely had time to plan the party.

And now he was about to… see Dean?

“He umm, got impaled on a nail,” Jack explained.

“He _what_?”

“Killing vamps with Sam.”

“He died like a… picture frame?”

“Maybe it was more like a rebar. The point is, he’s arriving any minute, Cas.” 

Cas blinked at Jack. “Oh no. I haven’t even been able to get confetti cannons yet. I have to get the appetizers in the oven!” 

What kind of snacks _are_ there at a concert? Why did Jack put him in charge? The only thing he’d ever organised was a garrison. And a supply closet, once, when he got bored. 

“Jack, you have to give me more time. Have Bobby distract him, please, so I can prepare the roadhouse for the festivities.”

That’s how Cas and seven very confused rockers ended up quietly sitting on the roadhouse floor while Bobby drank beers with an unsuspecting Dean in front of it. 

Cas decided to gag Kansas just to be safe. His angel ears picked up the conversation outside perfectly. Bobby was explaining that Jack rebuilt heaven so everyone could visit everyone now. 

Cas smiled to himself proudly. It’s well known lore that Chuck created the world in six days and then took a day to nap. Not to brag but it took them only 8 hours to redecorate heaven. After that, Cas quickly got bored though. Even without its barriers, with people mingling all over the place, heaven felt emptier than the Empty. 

It was hard not to think about. Things.

“... Cas helped,” he heard Bobby say.

Cas’s ears perked up. How would Dean react to hearing his name? With sadness? Shock? Neutral? Or… or…

For a minute, Cas allowed himself to hope.

Nothing. Dean said... nothing.

Soon after, Cas heard Dean get in his car to drive away. Right. His one true endgame - the Impala. 

Cas’ shoulders sagged. What did he expect? Apart from, you know, eternal death by black goo. Happiness isn’t in the having, he reminded himself. It’s in just saying it. And now it was said, the answer certainly shouldn’t matter to him! So what if Dean drove away? He hoped Dean and his car would be very happy together.

Besides, Cas didn’t have time to be sad about Dean riding Baby all day long. There was work to do.

He turned around to Kansas and removed their gags with an angry snap of his fingers. He pointed to the stage in the back of the roadhouse, where he had set up instruments identical to their real life ones. 

“You go do soundchecks while I make some phone calls,” he ordered, clapping his hands. “And smile! You’re in heaven. Eternal bliss, I wanna see nothing _less_ on those faces.”

—-

“ _Carry on my wayward son_

_There’ll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary…_ ”

“Stop! Stop.” Cas ordered, and Kansas abruptly quit playing.

Cas stood with his body pressed to the door, lurking through a crack. “False alarm. I was wrong, he’s not here after all.”

“Dude,” the lead singer complained. “That’s the twentieth time you’ve done this!”

“Eight. And it’s very stressful to organize events of this scale, you know.” He stepped a little closer to them, menacingly. There will be no escape from this roadhouse.

“Wait… wait a minute.” The drummer dropped his sticks. He looked pale as a ghost. “I’ve seen The Good Place. Is this hell?”

Cas frowned. What was the man talking about? They _were_ in heaven. “You _have_ seen the good place,” he confirmed.

“My fingers hurt,” the bass player complained. “I have arthritis.”

Cas sighed. His intuition had been right - he shouldn’t have killed the bassist. “For god’s sake. This is heaven - you can choose your form here. Move back into that young man’s body if you want.”

The members of Kansas exchanged glances with Keanu Reeves-level of confusion. Then, in a snap, they all had long hair and STD’s again. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” a voice suddenly said behind him. 

“Jack! I’m almost finished. I’m waiting for the Harvelles, they’re the only ones with an alcohol permit around here.”

“Dean and Sam are on their way.”

“Wait, Sam too? Oh. Time really moves too fast up here. There’s still too much to be done, Jack, the guests…”

Cas’ breath hitched in his throat. It was suddenly all too much as he realized something. _Dean_. Dean was on his way.

Jack put his hand on Cas’ arm in a soothing gesture. Almost… fatherly. What should have been helpful now became confusing to Cas. He’d been a dad to Jack, but now, the kid was God, so technically his, uh, _thee_ heavenly father.

Father’s Day was going to be a nightmare.

Nothing to burden Jack with, though. He shouldn’t be giving god Himself daddy issues.

“It’s okay, Cas. You did good.”

“Why did you give me this job?” He despaired. 

Jack frowned. “You needed a project. You were moping around heaven, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.”

“That’s not true.”

“Cas, you arranged your books by color, and then alphabetically and then by whether the author went to heaven, hell or purgatory.”

Cas crossed his arms. What was Jack implying?

“And the party’s just fine. Dean will be the happiest to see _you_ , anyway,” Jack said. 

_Him_? No. Cas took a step back. There was supposed to be a whole crowd to disappear in. So Dean could enjoy his time with his friends, family, car and Kansas the band instead of enduring any awkwardness. 

Suddenly, the roadhouse’s doors opened behind them. Two silhouettes in the shape of the Winchesters appeared, and Cas could swear time stopped altogether. Or maybe time had been stopped until this very moment, and only now started running again. Like a heartbeat revived.

Sam and Dean hadn’t changed one bit. This was how he remembered them. The form of Dean. He knew it by heart, and yet, now moving from the doorway towards them, it revealed itself in altogether new ways. A freckle he hadn’t noticed before. The way his eyes sparkled, despite the roadhouse’s lighting.

Dean looked mostly at Jack as he approached, glancing only a few times at Cas.

Cas understood.

“Amazing roadhouse,” Sam said, looking fresh for an old corpse. 

“Jack,” Dean’s greeting was tinged with clear admiration. Then something else moved across his features. “Cas—”

“ _CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON_ ”, boomed behind them. 

It was Kansas, suddenly remembering their death’s purpose. 

Whatever Dean was about to say, died on his lips. He wet them with his tongue, blinked rapidly and peered over Cas’s shoulders. A small frown formed between his brows as he watched Kansas perform, in all of their “circa 1978“ glory. 

Cas briefly closed his eyes, and turned around. They stood unmoving, the four of them, awkwardly watching a rock band perform in an empty venue. 

Cas could feel the heat of Dean’s quiet presence next to him like a burning fire. 

“ _Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season,_ ” Kansas sang, calling Cas out. Rude!

Their arms fell close to each other. Cas could only hope their proximity didn’t bother Dean. And the strange way heaven’s gravity seemed to work, their hands seemed to be moving nearer still, almost, almost —

Just then more people started pouring into the roadhouse. The four of them turned around, their backs turned to a still passionately performing Kansas, to greet the guests.

Good, Cas thought. People came! He wasn’t a failure at party planning after all. All of Dean’s loved ones showed up. Dean turned to them, clearly moved by their presence by evidence of moisture in his eyes, Cas noticed proudly. Dean greeted Jo, Eileen, Bobby, Garth and his family, Claire … Oops, somehow John Winchester’s invitation got lost in the mail. Oh well. Nothing that could be done about that now!

“ _Now your life’s no longer empty, surely heaven waits for you…_ ”

Something was stuck in Cas’s throat. Everyone else was drinking and laughing and dancing, but he needed some air. Needed to get out of there before ‘Dust in the Wind’ started, certainly. They couldn’t be playing ‘Carry on Wayward Son _’_ for the _fifth_ time in a row, right?

He spotted Dean hugging Lisa in the distance. 

It was too much.

“ _Don’t you cry, don’t you cry no more..._ ” Kansas sang as Cas stumbled through one of the exits. 

Outside, the cold nighttime air pricked in his lungs. Cas breathed deeply in an attempt to stop feeling so annoyingly alive. 

He sat down on the porch and rubbed his eyes. When did they become so wet? 

Was he crying?

It had been a shock to him the last time his eyes did… that…. when he told Dean he loved him. It was an even bigger surprise now. He shouldn’t be crying at Dean’s welcome party. 

Cas wiped his eyes with his wrists. He’d be fine. This was just a reaction to the music. Maybe Kansas _was_ one of the greatest rock bands ever after all. 

“Cas?” A familiar voice by the doorway startled him.

Dean.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” He sounded worried. 

Of course he would be. Dean was a classic caretaker, wired to save and fix. At least that’s what he read in Carver Edlund’s Supernatural books [purgatory section of his book shelf]. 

Cas sniffed. 

“I’m sorry.”

He tried to stop crying, eyes pressed tightly shut. He felt Dean hunker down in front of him, warm hands seeking balance on Cas’s knees. On his _knees_! When would his suffering be over? 

No. He couldn’t open his eyes. Possibly ever. 

“What the hell are you sorry for, bud?”

 _Bud_! Dean wanted them to just be buds. Cas considered giving up his grace and falling back down to earth right now, just to get out of this social nightmare.

“I really don’t want to ruin this happy occasion.”

There was a short pause. 

“Happy occasion? Cas, I’m _dead_.” 

The tears abruptly stopped. Cas looked up at Dean in horror. 

“Oh no, this party is _inappropriate_.”

Dean cracked a small smile. “No, it’s okay dude. I’m human. Mortality’s kind of part of the deal.”

Cas nodded. Of course, Cas had long come to terms with the idea that Dean would someday die. He’d just expected it to be after years had passed and his embarrassing final words had been forgotten. Or at least after the party hats from heaven’s Amazon arrived. 

Dean’s eyes softened. “Talk to me.”

Dean moved and sat down next to him, pulling two beers from the cooler beside them. He opened them and handed one to Cas. 

“I don’t wanna talk,” Cas said abruptly, surprised to realise it was the truth. “I’ve said enough.”

Dean took a large swig of his beer and stared ahead, into the relative darkness of a heavenly night. In the distance, there were lights indicating a town. Above them, stars. Perhaps it had been an indulgence to decorate heaven with actual stars, but Cas decided it was well worth it as he watched Dean look up at them and smile softly.

After a long silence, Dean cleared his throat. “You’re right.”

Dean’s fingers slid along the beer bottle’s neck as he looked down. “You’re right, man. I, uh. It’s my turn to talk.”

Another long beat followed. Cas didn’t think there was beer enough in the world to drink down his nerves.

“I was so angry at you, Cas,” Dean said, turning to him.

Cas’s face almost crumpled again right there, those words hitting him like a pebble rippling a lake. But he willed himself to keep his composure. He already knew this, after all. Dean didn’t… wasn’t… They were _buds_. And Cas was proud to be his bud. Really.

“For taking that deal with the Empty. For… for springing that on me like that. Then just leaving me alone with it all.” 

Dean looked away and took another sip. Behind them, the muffled sounds of Kansas’ ‘All I Wanted’ started to play.. 

Cas wondered how many women Dean had turned down in his life. Then realised with dread that probably Dean was such a ladies man he never turned any woman down. 

He was likely the first person Dean Winchester was about to ‘let down easy’.

At least it wasn’t a text message?

Cas sighed. This was his own personal hell. “Dean, you don’t have to—”

“ _No_. I do. I — I gotta.”

Dean looked down again, tension clear in his shoulders. After a breath, he started talking again.

“I didn’t _know_ , man. And I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, though I prayed …” Dean‘s speech stuttered to a halt. He bit his lip. “Sorry, I suck at this. I don’t have a big speech ready or anything, nothing poetic. And back then, with Billie and all, with everything happening, I just choked, Cas. But I know now… what I should have said to you. Because it was only fair for you to hear it from me. Out loud.”

Dean released puffy breaths in the cold air. 

“Dammit, Cas. Help me out here.”

Cas frowned. “How?” 

Was he supposed to turn down _himself_?

That would be cruel, even for a seasoned torturer. 

Dean met his eyes. “Tell me again,” he said in one quick breath.

“What?” Cas’s stomach dropped to the ground.

“Tell me. Again.” There was a silent _please_ in Dean’s voice. Dean was _pleading_. 

Cas’s throat ran dry with indecision. He’d already said it once, and to be honest, the consequences of that were a bit traumatizing. With all of the, uh, being taken to the angel elephant cemetery. 

But happiness was in the _saying_.

Right?

He licked his lips. Was Dean going to mock him? No. He loved this man, and he knew who he was. Cas trusted Dean not to hurt him. It would be a kind rejection. And Cas was the one who had laid the burden of his love on Dean. The least he owed him was to make it a little easier to turn him down. 

“ _How many times till I break_ ,” Kansas sang in the distance. “ _You’re hurting me the way I’m loving you the way I do_.” 

Cas breathed out shakily. Killing Kansas was a mistake.

His gaze wanted to linger on Dean’s hands, but he gathered all his courage and forced himself to look up at Dean’s face. 

Beautiful. Framed by moonlight, dark and open and… vulnerable. 

Suddenly, it became so easy to say it.

“I love you, Dean.”

Cas watched in surprise as the words seemed to cast a spell over Dean’s features. 

Dean swallowed. 

“Fuck. I love you, too, Cas.”

 _Oh_. Somehow. Somehow Cas was staying upright while all of heaven began swaying around him. It felt like all the air was sucked from every angel’s mouth. All of time whirled around Cas, like a tornado carrying a little house to Oz. 

“You. What?”

Dean fumbled nervously with the beer bottle and quickly leaned over, landing his lips sideways on Cas’s mouth. 

In all his billions of years in existence, nothing - _nothing_ could have prepared Castiel for Dean Winchester’s lips pressed against his. 

He felt Dean trembling against him, almost pulling away, alerting Cas to the fact that _he_ hadn’t moved at all. 

Cas tilted his head, his lips shifting, and fully caught Dean’s mouth with his. So warm. Soft. Dean made a little noise against him, and it vibrated through Cas’s whole body. It was music; his new favorite song.

Behind them, Kansas kept on playing. 

“ _That’s all I wanted._

_That’s all I wanted._

_That’s all I wanted._ ”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this started as a shitpost on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. I’d love to hear what you think, though no pressure :)


End file.
